


Perspective

by TheGreenMeridian



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Don’t copy to another site, Erectile Dysfunction, M/M, Sad atomic gentlemen, non-traditional sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 07:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenMeridian/pseuds/TheGreenMeridian
Summary: He’s not entirely talking about the disaster anymore and by the way Valery’s fingers tighten briefly around his empty glass, he’s sure that Valery knows this.





	Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Had a bit of a confidence blip recently, but I seem to have found my mojo again! Enjoy!

He’s face down on his paperwork when Boris enters the room, forehead resting against the desk and arms hanging limply at his sides as though he has just collapsed there without warning. Boris is immediately concerned that he actually has, that his body has finally reached its limit after weeks of mistreatment. He slips two fingers under Valery’s collar and feels for his pulse, relieved at the steady beat against his fingers and concerned at the clamminess of his skin. Boris has been feeling shittier lately, shittier than he can put down to working too hard or not sleeping well enough. It’s already starting to eat away at them. It seems a reasonable enough fear that Valery’s lack of sleep, poor diet, stress, and chain smoking may have accelerated the effect of the radiation and will take him from Boris sooner even than he had predicted. Besides, he has a suspicion Valery gets more radiation than anyone realises, sneaking off and taking measurements to save a soldier from having to expose himself further than he already is just by being here. Nikolai suspects it too, they’ve taken to sharing concerned glances every time Valery arrives late to a meeting or disappears afterwards. Though neither of them are willing to actually bring it up, to Valery or each other. It is a fear best left unspoken.

Boris strokes the thin, silky hair on the back of Valery’s head, grimacing when his hand comes away with a number of hairs stuck to it. Another thing best left unspoken, he thinks. He shakes Valery’s shoulder gently, and the man is instantly awake with a yelp, wide eyed and panicked, glasses hanging half off his face.

“Hey, calm down. It’s only me. You fell asleep at your desk, Valera,” he says soothingly, trying his best to keep the disapproval out of his voice. He can chide him later, when he’s more alert for it. Not that it ever makes any difference.

“Boris? Sorry, I... I was dreaming. I’m ok. Thank you for waking me.”

Valery shoves the glasses back onto his face and blinks blearily at his desk as his eyes adjust, shuffling papers around and searching uselessly for the pen. Boris had noticed it on the floor when he came in, and he decides it’s best not to mention it.

“Jesus Valera, when was the last time you slept? Properly, I mean!” He says the last part with a glare, cutting off the protest he can see forming on Valery’s dry lips.

Valery looks appropriately chastised but still, he shakes his head. “Last night. Honestly Boris, I’m fine. You don’t have to trouble yourself with me.”

Boris pulls the chair back from the desk, ignoring both the indignant sound Valery makes and the way his arms feel more strained than they should, and yanks Valery to his feet.

“You need sleep, Valera. And a decent meal. You need to start treating yourself better, you look like shit all the time. You’re killing yourself, carrying on like this. We need you at your best. I need you at your best.”

“Does it make any difference?” Valery mutters under his breath, gazing down at his feet. Boris tips his face up to meet his eye with a finger under his chin and frowns at him.

“Does what make any difference?”

“Sleep. Food. Any of it.” An empty bark of laughter escapes him, and Boris fights back the urge to hit him, shake some sense into him, anything to get rid of the bitter, defeated look on his friend’s face. “You accused me of killing myself. Are we not all already doing that by being here? Do you honestly think an extra hour’s sleep will make any difference?”

Boris doesn’t have an answer to that. He doesn’t want to think about dying. Though it’s getting harder and harder every day to ignore. Every morning his joints seem a little stiffer, walks wind him a little faster, his appetite needs a little more coaxing. Every evening his body feels a little more drained, his mouth feels a little more dry, his cock takes a little longer to get hard. He is fading away, slowly but surely.

“You need to sleep Valera,” he repeats uselessly.

His hand is still on Valery’s chin, and he watches as it slides along Valery’s face, cupping his jaw and running his thumb over the scarring on his cheek. He blinks at it dumbly. He hadn’t intended to do that. Valery stares at him, his mouth open ever so slightly in shock. Boris snatches the hand back and and retreats until his legs hit the back of the bed. He turns away from Valery, and looks at the drab orange curtains hiding the abandoned city from their view.

“Go to bed, Valera. Get some damn sleep.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, instead striding from the room without a second glance at his friend, not slowing down until he is safely ensconced in his own room and can finally release the breath he has been holding. What the hell had he done?

He sits down on his bed and stares at the hand that just moments ago was holding his friend’s face so tenderly. The texture of the man’s skin feels imprinted on his thumb, the rough scrape of stubble and the uneven surface of the scars as impossible to forget as the solidity of his jaw. Valery does not carry himself like a man confident in his own body but it had occurred to him more than once that Valery has a fine square jaw and broad shoulders and the shape of it lingers in his palm. He has always seen Valery as slighter than him. Yes, he is the taller of them but Valery is not a small man. Were he to stand straighter and with more self-assuredness, and sit properly rather than slouch like an awkward teenager, he would be an imposing figure even with his glasses and ill-fitting suits.

He’d promised himself he’d leave well alone. They had enough to deal with, without him adding this to their burden. That he has been feeling an intense draw to the other man since the beginning is besides the point. He has never felt such a thing towards a man, and 67 is awfully late to go discovering such aberrations in oneself. If Valery knew what Boris had been thinking about him, he’d run screaming into the open reactor. Besides, given the current state of his health, even if Valery did welcome his advances, they likely wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing anyway. And now he’s touched Valery like some lovelorn teenage girl. What a sad old fool he is.

He lays back on the bed and closes his eyes. The shocked look in Valery’s eyes at Boris’ touch, the way his mouth was ever so slightly open, the damp shine on his lower lip. He can’t escape it. He feels himself swelling slowly beneath his hand. Fuck, when did he start touching himself? He cups himself tighter through the rough fabric of his trousers, allowing himself a moment to relish his virility. Erections have been harder and harder to come by lately and though what he has now would likely be useless for sex, it is enough to work with for his own purposes. Perhaps he should take advantage of the situation, despite its inappropriate beginnings. He has plenty of memories to draw on for inspiration that don’t involve Valery.

He strips, baring himself to the room, and wraps his hand around the base of himself. As he’d expected, enough to get himself off. He licks his thumb, grasps himself again, and swipes across his sensitive tip. He’s had more than half a century to learn himself, to perfect his technique, and even when he’s had women in his life to take care of his needs, he’s always enjoyed indulging himself like this. It has been far too long since he’s had sex, too. Far too long since some beautiful woman has been beneath him, moaning as he slides into the wet warmth of her, gasping his name and protesting at the size of him. He thinks for a moment about Valery. Are his broad shoulders and square jaw indicative of an endowment similar to Boris’ own? Valery has never mentioned a sweetheart and Boris knows he isn’t married, but he’s a good looking man, he must have had his own experiences with the fairer sex. Perhaps he too has felt the singular joy of a woman expressing doubt she can fully take him. He imagines briefly what it would be like to be a woman, laying on her back and having Valery sinking into her, stretching her. He wonders what it would be like, to feel so full. To have Valery impossibly deep within him, watching him touch himself like this while fucking into him with long strokes punctuated by sharp snaps of his hips.

The burst of pleasure this thought caused was not enough to distract him from the realisation that he had just imagined being with a man. And not just being with a man, being fucked by a man. He snatches his hand away from his cock. Fuck, it was better if he just tried to sleep. He rolls onto his side and tries to ignore the insistent throb between his legs. It’ll go down by itself soon enough, he thinks bitterly. Even if it hadn’t been so difficult to get a useable erection this time, he’s used to them being unstable these days. Damn this radiation! Maybe it’s warped his mind too, maybe it’s why this strange obsession with Valery has taken over his mind. He looks down at himself. Deflating already. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?

He spends the next day being entirely professional with Valery. Professional enough that the other man obviously notices. It has been some time since he has called him ‘Legasov’ and the flash of pain he sees in his eyes is surely mirrored in his own. It isn’t fair of him to put Valery at a distance like this, but he doesn’t know what else to do. A Pandora’s box has opened in his mind, all the strange feelings that have been lurking beneath the surface have broken free and he can’t stop looking at Valery differently. The shape of his mouth, the size of his hands, Jesus, he’s even glanced at his crotch once or twice. The image of Valery touching him, of touching him back, will not leave his thoughts and it’s driving him slowly insane. It’s all he can do not to pull the man into his lap and shove his tongue down his throat when Valery brushes past his legs in the cramped tent. Nikolai has noticed something is up, too. The general glares at him with every “Legasov” that leaves his lips, judging him for his sudden burst of apparent cruelty.

It’s then that they get the phone call. Vladimir will not be coming back. His eyes have failed him, no doubt as a result of the huge dose of radiation he took back when all this insanity started. The mood in the tent instantly becomes somber, and when Nikolai silently pours the three of them a drink, both Boris and Valery down it without hesitation. He knows his own health is failing, he has seen how Valery’s hair stuck to his hand, and he has heard Nikolai on the phone to his doctor regarding blood in his shit. Vladimir is just the first of them to have to stop working. 

He looks at Valery. He is a naturally solemn man who seems truly depressed more often than not, but he has never seen him look quite so defeated as he does now. He wants to hug his friend, to take that awful look off his face and replace it with the smile he has only once seen. He wants to kiss him, he realises. And for some reason, that’s a far less terrifying thought now than it has been.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet. He invites them both to join him for a drink, but Nikolai waves him off, claiming he has some work to do. Boris suspects he actually just wants to phone his wife, but he won’t call him out on it. The man deserves some comfort tonight. So instead, it is just Valery who joins him at the bar, a bottle of vodka between them. It feels strange just taking it, he has the urge to leave some money behind, but really, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like anyone will be coming back to do a stock check. 

“To Vladimir,” he says, pouring their first round.

“Vladimir,” Valery agrees. “A brave man.”

They down their drinks and he pours out two more. “And what of us, Valera? Are we brave?”

“You are, Boris. You could have sent someone else in your place, you could have left and directed from a distance. But you stayed.”

“I’m not brave, Valera,” he says, downing his drink and gesturing at him to do the same. “I’m disposable. Had they told me I was going to die, I probably would have sent someone else.”

“I don’t believe that. I don’t think you’d make someone die to save yourself, Boris. That’s not who you are.”

“Isn’t it? You don’t know a thing about who I was before I came here. You don’t know what I’ve done to get to where I am today, who I’ve hurt. You don’t know the things I did in the war.”

“No. But I know who you are now. And the Boris I know is not a coward.”

He pours himself another shot and frowns when Valery puts his hand over his own glass. They sit silently for a while, Boris letting the warm vodka in his belly distract him from how terribly empty he feels.

“I’ve done things to get to where I am too, Boris,” Valery says, breaking the silence. “I’ve blocked people’s career progression to gain favour with the Party. I’ve let someone suffer for my sins. We are neither of us saints.”

Boris wants to ask him to spill his secrets but he knows he is not willing to spill his own in return. It’s strange, Valery is perhaps the only person he has ever trusted enough to tell such things too, and that is exactly why he cannot. He cannot bear to lose Valery’s good opinion of him, no matter how unfounded it may be.

Something almost tangible has changed between them since the night before, galvanised by the news of Vladimir’s illness. He looks up from his glass to find Valery looking directly at him. He holds his gaze for an impossibly long moment, Valery’s eyes shining under the harsh lights, perceptive as ever. Boris breaks and looks back at the bar.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Valery,” he says. “I’m... afraid.”

He’s not entirely talking about the disaster anymore and by the way Valery’s fingers tighten briefly around his empty glass, he’s sure that Valery knows this.

“Is it something you want, Boris?”

He swallows dryly and thinks about it. There is a sexual attraction between them that he can’t deny, especially after his truncated masturbation session the night before. But it’s more than that, too. Valery is his closest friend in the world. Valery is his rock, and he is Valery’s, and more than anything, he needs physical comfort and he doesn’t think he would be as emotionally satisfied receiving it from anyone else. He is touch starved. And if the radiation has broken his mind, then so be it. His life will be far too short to justify denying himself this.

“Yes. It’s something I want.”

Valery nods stiffly and climbs from the bar stool. “We need to shower and change. The radiation. May I join you afterwards?”

Boris nods at him and follows him to the elevator. He knows for certain there are no bugs in here, and so he takes the chance to slip his hand in Valery’s until they reach their floor. The warmth of his skin calms him, and he is reluctant to let go, but the brief squeeze he gets as he does is a promise of more, and that will have to be enough to sustain him until Valery arrives later.

He showers quickly, giving his cock a few tugs to see if he can muster some interest, and he believes he will get somewhere with it, with Valery’s help. Still, he’s not what he was, before the radiation. But then, he never used to be the sort of man who jerks it in the shower in the hopes of being able to pleasure another man.

He has been dressed for five minutes by the time Valery knocks on his door. Anticipation is making his chest tight and he can feel his pulse throbbing throughout his body. When he lets Valery in, he stands awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. Valery will have to be his guide here.

“Boris...” Valery whispers, looking uncertain, and Boris gives a small nod of consent for whatever is to come. He’s pulled into an embrace, Valery’s nose skims his jaw as he is held by deceptively strong arms and Valery’s lips brush the skin below his ear.

“I took the bugs out. They haven’t had time to put them back.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m sure. I know how they operate. I’ve lived in this world longer than you have.”

Valery seems placated by this and returns to nuzzling gently into his neck, inhaling and shuddering. He was expecting raw passion. He was not expecting this tender exploration of his body, nor the calming effect of Valery’s arms. He feels cared for in a way he hasn’t felt for a long time. Too long. 

“I’ve wanted you, Boris,” Valery says against his skin. “God, you don’t know what it’s like to be around you every day.”

Boris says nothing, simply tightens his own grip on Valery’s back. Words have not been a huge part of his sex life, beyond ‘fuck me’, ‘so good’ and ‘right there’. Beyond women talking about the size of his cock. This slow verbal foreplay is as new to him as the fact that it’s with a man and he can feel Valery’s soft, confident voice in his very veins.

“Valera I... I’ve never done this before, with a man.” The admission is harder than it should be and he closes his eyes.

“My Borja... will you let me take care of you?”

He can only hiss his agreement as Valery sucks a gentle kiss just below his ear, causing his head to fall back instinctively to give the man more room to work his magic. He has never taken the submissive role during sex, but it feels natural now to give power over to Valery. He trusts him, in all things, and he feels safe. Valery pulls away from his neck and cups his face in a mirror of the night before, and pulls him into a kiss. The first brush of Valery’s lips is electrifying, anticipation building in him like a storm. Valery can kiss. He is ashamed to find himself as shocked as he is, some part of him had believed that this ungraceful, socially awkward academic would be relatively unpracticed in these matters. But for all his stumbling, for all his clumsiness, Valery is nothing but talented here. The sharp tip of his tongue skims Boris’ lower lip so gently it tickles, before it slides into his mouth and tangles with his own. Valery is not plundering his mouth, he is not selfish in how he kisses, yet it is immediately clear that Valery is in control and Boris willingly lets him steer the kiss however he wishes.

So focused is he on Valery’s nimble tongue, he doesn’t fully register what Valery’s hands are doing until he feels the blunt press of fingertips into the muscle of his arse, pulling him forward. Another set of fingers play with the hair at the base his neck, the nails raking across his skin and stimulating nerves he’d long forgotten.

“Valera... please...” he begs.

His body is fast becoming hyper sensitive. His skin feels far too tight and the rough fabric of his fatigues on his body is torture. It’s all too much. Valery recaptures his lips, and the hand on his neck skitters across his jaw, over his Adan’s apple, and begins slowly working his shirt open with impressive dexterity. Boris growls, frustration beginning to overwhelm him, and moves to start on Valery’s buttons. Valery laughs softly, quite possibly the most wonderful sound Boris has ever heard, and bats his hand away.

“Patience, Borja. We have time.”

“Why are you teasing me like this, Valera?” 

Valery pulls back a little to give him a small smile, one that Boris is certain has been shown to very few people other than himself. “I’m not teasing. I’m... savouring. I want to experience you properly.”

Boris wants to grab his shoulders, assert his dominance with a harsh kiss and throw him to the bed but the way Valery looks at him like he’s in awe of him, the idea of Valery seeing him as something to savour, it ruins him. He feels loved. This man, this smart, brave, singular man wants him in such an open, tender way and he can not deny him a thing. He nods, swallowing around a tightness in his throat, refusing to let his eyes show how vulnerable he feels. The shy smile on Valery’s face doesn’t leave until their lips touch again. Valery resumes his slow undressing of Boris, finally undoing the last button of his shirt and pushing gently at Boris’ arms until Boris lets it slide to the floor. He doesn’t stop Boris from going for his shirt this time. Boris goes slowly too, understanding now what Valery meant by savouring. The faster they go, the faster this will be over and he cannot bear the idea of it ending. Not yet. Not until neither of them can wait a second longer.

When Valery’s shirt hits the floor, he cannot help himself. He has to pull back and open his eyes and see for himself. Valery isn’t wearing an undershirt, his torso is bare to Boris’ scrutiny and he stands back with neither shame nor arrogance to allow Boris to take him in. He is as Boris knew he would be, pale, a little soft around the middle, coated in freckles, with square shoulders and wiry arms and a patch of reddish hair on his belly. Boris has never in his life found another man sexually appealing but in this moment he cannot imagine anything more arousing than Valery’s half naked body. He needs more. He needs to see if the freckles cover his thighs, too. If the hair on his calves is the same colour as the hair on his stomach.

“Fuck, Valera...” he says reverently. He reaches out to press his palm to Valery’s chest, shuddering at the warmth of his skin and the slight thump of his heart.

“This is ok?” Valery asks softly, and Boris sees the slight tension in his stance. He is afraid of rejection, perhaps. Or afraid of Boris remembering that he is a man.

“Perfect,” Boris says. He strokes the hand across Valery’s chest slowly, as if the vision before him will evaporate if he is not careful. “You’re stunning, Valera. Truly.”

Valery blushes, colour spreading across his face, his neck, around his collarbones. Boris wants to taste it. He dips his head and kisses the pink tip of Valery’s ear, the apple of his cheek, his pulse point, the hollow of his neck. Valery loses his composure for the first time since this started, crying out as Boris’s lips move slowly across his skin, grasping frantically at Boris’ arms.

“That’s it, Valera. Let go for me. I want to make you feel good too. I want to hear you.”

Boris realises as he says it that the grunts Valery makes when he stretches his back until it clicks, the tired sighs when he rubs at his eyes, the hisses when he rolls his wrists after writing for too long: Boris has catalogued them all. He’s been aware of Valery in a way he hadn’t noticed until this moment, listening to him and learning him.

Valery’s lips fasten on the join between shoulder and neck and Boris feels his legs tremble. He retaliates, rubbing his thumb over Valery’s nipple but it only makes Valery gasp warm breath over his wet skin, weakening him further. He wants to slow down again, to drag this out, but his resolve is disintegrating now he finally, finally has heated skin beneath his hands. 

“Borja,” Valery says, voice strained. “Please... I need... can we lay down? I don’t think I can stand much longer.”

Boris guides him to the bed. His instincts tell him to push Valery down and lay atop him, but instead, he decides to do the opposite. He wants to feel Valery’s body weighing down on him. As much as he is unable to be passive, he still finds himself craving that initial sense of submission. He needs it. He needs to let Valery lead him, to care for him. To love him.

It is a strange sensation, being under another man. Women, with their small bodies and slim figures, have not felt as all-encompassing as Valery feels now. They have not been heavy, nor broad. He cannot believe now that he has ever settled for anything less than this. He pulls Valery in for a kiss and places his hands on those square shoulders, admiring how perfectly they fit in his hands. Valery leaves his mouth to take his earlobe between his teeth and Boris scrapes his nails down Valery’s back until he reaches his waistband.

“Talk to me, love,” Valery says as he relinquishes his ear. “Tell me how you feel.”

Boris feels suddenly shy, still so unused to being verbal during the act. But if it will arouse Valery, he will do as he is asked. “Fuck, just keep doing that.”

“Doing what, Borja?” Valery asks with false innocence.

“Anything. Everything. Your mouth, Jesus, just... fuck.”

Valery gives a lingering kiss to his neck. “Like this?” He bites down, hard. “Or like this?”

Boris cannot be expected to be coherent when he has this... this... animal, attacking him like this. This wanton, filthy creature focussing all his attention on Boris’ body. Valery chuckles, low and dirty, and suddenly a hot mouth is latched onto his nipple, sucking him, lathing at his rapidly hardening peak with that demonic tongue, scraping teeth across his tender flesh.

“Ah! Fuck, like that, just like that!”

Valery swaps to the other side and gives it the same treatment while his fingers begin to tug at the nipple abandoned to the cool air. Boris’ eyes squeeze shut, any external stimuli on top of this is too much for his brain to handle, neurones are firing at random and he can feel goosebumps spreading across his skin. The hand on his nipple is suddenly at his belt, then lower, resting on his thigh, fingertips mere centimetres from his balls. He writhes as best as he can under the body pinning him, not even sure if he’s trying to escape the contact or force more of it. Valery finally pulls back from his nipple with a filthy wet sound, and looks down at him with hazy eyes and swollen lips.

“May I take these off?”

“Of course you fucking can, do you really need to ask?” he pants. Valery adjusts his askew glasses and undoes his buckle with measured movements.

“I... I need to warn you, before this goes further,” Valery says quietly, not quite meeting his eye. “The radiation, I... please believe I want you, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. But... I don’t... it doesn’t...”

He looks mortified and Boris realises that he is not alone in his struggles. “Me too, Valera.”

The embarrassment he’s waiting for doesn’t come. They are, as in all things, in this together. Valery resumes his removal of Boris’ trousers and briefs, slides out of his own, and takes his position kneeling between Boris’ shamefully spread legs, looking down at his body.

“So beautiful, Borja. I always knew you would be.”

Boris is old, and it shows. He takes good care of himself but age and gravity cannot be escaped, and he knows he’s not the man he once was. Still, he is willing to believe that the reverent way in which Valery’s eyes move down his body is sincere. He is only half hard, despite everything, and he wants so terribly to be as stiff as Valery’s attentions deserve, as the swollen ache behind his cock deserves. But a quick glance south shows him that between freckled thighs, Valery is in the same boat.

“What do we do, Valera? If we can’t...”

“I can still make you feel good. If you trust me.”

“I trust you. You know I do.”

“You don’t have to be hard, to climax. Did you know that?” Valery asks, shuffling down the bed. “If you’re stimulated right, you can climax just as hard as you would normally.”

Boris wants to laugh. Even here, with his face so close to Boris’ crotch, he’s able to show off the considerable size of his brain and give Boris a lecture on science. 

“There are quite a few ways to make a man climax like this. The head of the penis is still sensitive, even like this.”

The laughter quickly leaves Boris’ mind as Valery’s hand gently eases back his foreskin, allowing him to lick at his frenulum and trace around his ridge.

“Of course, the foreskin shouldn’t be forgotten either. So many nerve endings here.”

With perfect precision, the tip of Valery’s tongue glides around the edge of his foreskin, sending pleasant shocks through his length leaving him aching for more.

“And the scrotum is quite sensitive for some men, too. I wonder if it is for you?”

Valery gives him no time to answer before he sucks a testicle into his mouth with the barest scrape of teeth over his skin. Boris moans. The sensation is one thing but Valery’s soft, seductive tone and the casual way in which he’s describing these parts of his body is truly destroying him.

“So good, Valera. You’re so good to me, sweetheart. Such a filthy mouth on you, fuck, I had no idea.”

Valery releases his testicle and returns to suckling the tip of his cock. The suction helps somewhat with his problem and he can feel himself hardening a little more in Valery’s mouth. Valery begins slowly fisting his cock as he sucks him, the dual sensation is almost too much to bear. Though, he still hates it and whines pathetically when Valery’s mouth leaves him.

“There’s another part of you... inside. It feels so amazing, Borja.”

Conflicting emotions roll through him. To go from thinking yourself entirely heterosexual to allowing a man to put something in your arse in such a short period of time is a lot to process. But he does trust Valery. And he absolutely believes that whatever Valery is intending, it will be pleasurable.

“Do it. Anything. Fuck Valera, anything.”

Valery leans off the bed to fish a pot out of his trouser pocket. Boris raises an eyebrow at him as he smiles sheepishly.

“Petroleum jelly. I didn’t want to presume, but...”

He trails off as Boris stares fire at him. That Valery has come prepared in such a way speaks of his experience and his confidence and it’s making the heaviness inside him worse. Valery does not unscrew the lid as expected, he places the pot on the bed and runs his hands up Boris’ legs.

“There’s something I want to do first.”

He pushes Boris legs apart and lays on his belly between them, sliding his hands under Boris’ arse. Boris has no idea what to expect. Is he going to blow him again? Maybe lick his balls some more? He is still confused even as thumbs spread his cheeks and hot breath ghosts over his hole. The feeling of wet muscle lapping at his entrance comes as a total shock.

“Valera! What the fuck are you doing?”

Valery adjusts to look up at him. “It’s ok, Borja. You must have done something similar with women, yes?”

“Not this, I’ve never done this! It’s... Jesus, it’s...”

“Let me. Just for a moment. You can stop me if you don’t enjoy it but... if you let yourself, I think you will. Put your legs on my shoulders.”

Boris obeys hesitantly. His brain is screaming at him to stop, this can’t be sanitary, this can’t be normal. And then Valery’s tongue circles his rim and sparks fly through him. He lets out a low, guttural moan. He’s never felt anything like this, didn’t even know this was a feeling that could exist. It’s divine. Each flick of Valery’s tongue makes his hole spasm reflexively as if it demands more, and when Valery finally plunges into him, tongue as deep as possible and teasing at his walls, he surrenders to it without a thought. At almost the exact moment he thinks he cannot take anymore, a finger replaces the tongue inside him and begins slowly fucking him as Valery continues to tease his rim with little licks.

“Please... oh god, Valera, I can’t... let me touch myself, please!”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking, but when Valery makes a ‘nuh-uh’ noise and he feels the vibrations of it, he knows his cock is going to stay resting on belly like this until he’s told otherwise. One finger becomes two, and two fingers begin curling up towards his cock and pressing into some swollen spot of resistance deep within him. Nothing should feel this good. It is pleasure to the point of pain, his legs are shaking on Valery’s shoulders, his hand has made it’s way into Valery’s hair, holding him in place as he bucks helplessly against his face. He has to cum, he absolutely has to fucking cum, but Valery just keeps pressing into that place over and over and over, fluid leaking steadily from his cock and pooling on his belly. He feels impossibly full inside, not just from Valery’s fingers but the place that they keep massaging too. It feels swollen, aching, full; all he can think about is how badly he needs release. Valery sits up and the angle changes slightly, and Boris sobs.

“That’s it Borja, do you feel it? This place inside you? Tell me, Borja.” Valery demands with spit-licked lips.

Boris cannot answer, he barely even hears the question. His legs are twitching violently, tears begin running down his face as Valery’s fingers begin massaging in small, firm circles.

“Tell me how it feels, Borja. Please? Do you feel how swollen it is?”

“Fu-fuck, I can’t... feels full. Hurts... Valera, please, I can’t...”

“God, look at you leaking for me. So wet, my Borja.”

A firm pressure on his taint presses the spot into Valery’s fingers and Boris has pins and needles in his feet, in his hands, in his face. He can feel something building in him, deep within his core. It’s coming, he’s so close, teetering on the edge, sobbing with the overwhelming pleasure.

“You’re so close, love, so close. Just let go. Let go for me, climax for me. You’re so beautiful like this.”

Valery’s encouragement is the last straw, his body cannot handle the building pressure a moment longer. He cries out, wave after wave of pleasure streaks through him, whiting out his vision, making him arch off the bed and writhe as he clamps hard around the fingers in his arse, pushing the tender gland into them and prolonging his torture. Valery grabs his cock and strokes him through it and he empties onto his chest in several long spurts, falling to pieces. He shivers as the intensity finally begins to die down, groans weakly as Valery gently slides his fingers from his hole. As he slowly comes back to himself he is aware of wetness on his torso, his neck, even on his chin. He blinks as the room comes back into focus, Valery is looking down at him in awe, rolling the head of his own cock in his hand and biting his lip.

“Borja... my god, you looked... you came so hard...”

Boris can do nothing but watch the beautiful man above him lean down and let himself be kissed. He wants to pleasure Valery, wants to take his cock in his hand, his mouth, anything, but his body is barely able to manage breathing, let alone anything else. Valery sits back up and Boris watches as the man massages his soft cock with fingers that moments ago were inside of him. He stops for a moment to scoop up a little of Boris’s seed and uses it to ease the glide of his fingers across his head, over his tip, circling his slit. It’s the most erotic thing Boris has ever seen. Valery’s thighs tremble, his eyes look as though they are fighting to close. He’s close, Boris can tell, and if he can’t help physically, he’s sure as hell going to help with his words.

“Valera,” he slurs. “So good. Fucked me so good. Wanna see you cum for me.”

Valery breathes in staccato rhythm, high pitched gasps and whines falling from his plump lips. Boris can see the shine of his own fluids on Valery’s cock, and the sight is pure sin.

“That’s it Valera. All mine...”

Valery shudders, falls forward, and Boris feels the heat of his release dripping on his stomach in time with the soft grunts coming from the man above him. When Valery collapses on him, he doesn’t mind. The weight of him is comforting, grounding, and even the mess smeared between them is pleasant in its own way. He slings his arms around Valery and holds him as tightly as his uncooperative arms will allow, and listens as Valery’s breath slowly returns to a less extreme rhythm.

“Oh, Borja. That was...” Valery mumbles into his shoulder. 

“Fuck.”

They lay, enjoying each other’s presence and the press of sweat slicked skin until Boris realises he’s drifting into sleep and likely will end up glued to Valery if they don’t sort themselves out. He taps the man’s shoulder.

“We need to clean up, Valera.”

Valery groans and pulls off him, wincing at the tug of skin, and stumbles to the bathroom. Boris feels unable to move, utterly drained. He imagines he’ll be lucky if he can even walk tomorrow. Valery wipes him down with a wet cloth, and the tenderness of it is not lost on him. Neither is the way Valery cups his cheek and caresses his cheekbone.

“What is this, Valera?” he asks. 

Valery’s awkwardness has returned, and the small blush on those pale cheeks is endearing in the extreme.

“It’s... hmm. What do you want it to be, Borja?”

He takes Valery’s hand and kisses his palm. He doesn’t know what he wants it to be. Or rather, he’s not quite prepared to acknowledge what he wants it to be. What it probably already is for him. He’s been alone for a long time now. He knows how to be alone. He doesn’t know how to be anything else. And to be with Valery... it wouldn’t be possible. They’re both men. It just can’t be. Even for the short time they have left. 

But then he looks into Valery’s eyes and sees the earnest hope hidden behind his pale lashes. He feels the tender, loving stroke of a thumb against his hand. He remembers how much he admires this brave man, how much he wishes he could protect him from the hell they find themselves in. And he realises that he has never felt as comfortable around another person as he does around Valery. And he makes his mind up. To hell with it. They deserve this.

**Author's Note:**

> thegreenmeridian.tumblr.com


End file.
